I spent an enjoyable few days in North Wales last November that included a day trip to the south to take a wander round an old colliery, so with time to pass I decided to take a full week this time and pick up where I left off. The Gower Peninsula is about as far south as you can get in Wales, and remote enough to make for a relaxing getaway. All around this rocky outcrop you’ll find hidden beaches and rugged cliffs: good for an adventure, though not much of it is what you would label ‘easy access’…

High on the list of things I wanted to photograph was the lighthouse at Whiteford Point, a 13 metre beacon at the remote north-western end of the peninsula and the only wave swept cast iron tower of its size left in Britain. Built in 1865 it provided accommodation for two keepers at any one time in fortnightly shifts that alternated with the light at Llanelli, though in 1920 it was discontinued. It would be more than sixty years before it was lit again but the solar lantern installed in the 1980s lasted only a few years before failing, and its presence once again serves only as a nautical waymarker. You can actually buy it now for £1 – providing you can spend another £200,000 restoring it.

I knew from the map that it wouldn’t be the easiest thing to reach, with no roads going anywhere near it and woodland and sand dunes in between. In fact it would turn out to be around a seven mile round walk from the nearest car park, made all the more arduous by the terrain being mainly sand and rocks. My first visit at Monday’s low tide proved exhausting and vexing in equal measure: you could walk right around the structure itself but the sun steadfastly refused to shine on it, making for somewhat dull pictures. A spare afternoon presented an opportunity to return while the sun was shining, but the tide was four hours later than it had been previously and who knew how quickly it would reveal the rocky causeway to the structure itself…

Not quickly enough it turned out, and having walked for over three miles to get near it I was faced with a Canute-like frustrating wait, willing the sea to retreat. Standing in the Bristol Channel for an hour while the wind whipped at my face isn’t really my idea of fun, and just as the tide was retreating enough to suggest a solid way forward the weakening sun succumbed to the thickening cloud, taking away the lovely yellow light in the process. The main picture here was the last shot I took before it disappeared for good, the rusting structure popping nicely against the darkening sky. I like that.

On my return to relative civilisation I stopped off at the local community run shop/post office/cafe to offer my face some respite from the wind burn that was quickly reddening it and sample their coffee and cakes. It was a curious place with a nice atmosphere but precious little in the way of customers – just six all day according to the lady that tried to offer me various pasties and cakes to take away for free because they wouldn’t last the weekend. Not that the locals weren’t popping in and out, but it seemed like more of a social club at times than a shop. It was all very pleasant and all very Welsh.

I picked out a bottle of ‘Pit Head’ golden ale purely from the image of mining headstocks on the label and took it away for later. Which brings me nicely to the next part of my Welsh trip. Hold that thought, I’ll pick it up next time…